


You Remind Me Of A Guy I Once Knew... | AshEiji

by mon0worldd



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, I Made Myself Cry, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, M/M, New Souls, Not Really Character Death, OTP Feels, Old Souls, Rebirth, Soulmates, The Author Regrets Everything, like REALLY FUCKING BAD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:33:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25137721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mon0worldd/pseuds/mon0worldd
Summary: "You seem very familiar," said the blonde boy. "Have you been here before?"...In which Eiji Okumura enters the afterlife.
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji
Comments: 5
Kudos: 152





	You Remind Me Of A Guy I Once Knew... | AshEiji

"Welcome to the afterlife," said the man in the pinstripe attire at the gates, "You must be tired from all that _living,_ aye?" 

"I'm. . . dead?" 

Facing me was a small gate encased in walls of stone, both with ivy and various vines running down the length. The sun in the distance blinded whatever view I could have gotten of the landscape beyond the doors. All that hit my eyes were hills. 

_Death_. Something tells me mines was deserved, _needed_ almost, that the afterlife holds something special I couldn't have gotten before. But no matter how hard I try, I couldn't remember anything from the years I'd lived. I definitely felt a bunch more youthful than before. Maybe the afterlife brings out the appearance you felt the most at peace in, because I don't think I would have died wearing jeans with a white blouse and a gray sleeveless sweater overlapping it.

"Aye. Although they've erased your memories." He had a slight accent, although I couldn't tell from where. After clearing his throat, he glanced down at the clipboard in his hands, then followed my gaze beyond the gates. "Beautiful, 'innit?" 

I nodded. 

"Well, I've got plenty of information on the life you lived, but some of it ain't pretty. Shall I?" 

I took a few seconds to decide, and pouted. "Just my name, please. I think I'd want to figure out the rest on my own." 

"'Course. You're calm for a dead man." He paused, then read off of his clipboard. "You were Eiji Okumura. Dead at 57 from health complications."

There's a short pause where I assumed the man expected me to react, or to process. "Alright. Is it okay for me to open the doors now?" 

When I looked behind me, the man had a warm, almost knowing smile. "You've been allowed to open 'em this whole time, actually." 

* * *

Anticipation claws at my insides when I pushed open the creaking metal. It was that _feeling_ again. The sense that something important waits for me in death. 

I stopped to observe the landscape on the slope that stood above it all. The glare of the sun had faded, I realized. Everything was a lot clearer, and it was utterly breathtaking for such normal scenery. I should have been able to describe it effortlessly, but the proper words didn't come to mind.

The hills overlooked a clearing covered in various crops and dewy grass. On the far right, a bench, and upon it was a man with golden hair reading a book with a serene silence and concentration. He looked peaceful. Sad, almost. It was the type of unsettling peace that comes after a heavy amount of violence and pain. 

In a few stumbling steps I was at the bottom of the slope, and with a final sweep around the clearing, I made my way towards the blonde. The closer I got, the more I noticed small things about him; he sat with one leg bent underneath him, the free limb remaining still. His hair fell to the sides of his face and was lit by the sun, almost like a halo. He was wearing a creme trench coat with a black turtleneck and polished brown shoes that glistened, probably because they were slightly coated in dew. 

The more I approached, the more he seemed to sense me. At last, when I was merely a few steps from the bench, he looked up. The colour of his eyes was the final touch to his appearance; a jade green, they seemed almost calculative, and although the way he stared at me is soft, I could feel a fearful edge to it, like this is the way he looked at everything both in life and death. 

_This_ is what had been waiting for me, I realize. The indescribable feeling rises, becoming something like euphoria. 

"You seem very familiar," said the blonde boy, "Have you been here before?"

The bubbling in my stomach became even more unbearable when he spoke. I gulped, and responded. "No. I don't think so." 

"You must be a new soul, then. The guy at the gates told me I'd meet a new soul eventually." He scooted aside and tapped the bench with a smile. "Please, sit."

I complied. "What's your name?" I asked him.

He smiled. "Aslan. That's all I can remember after 37 years in here, really. You?" 

I leaned into the bench. "Eiji. You said I was familiar. What does that mean? Haven't they erased your memories?" 

Aslan went silent, and I could tell he was thinking far more intently, _far_ more calculative and guarded than should be normal. "I'll be honest, I can kind of remember some parts of my past life. I've been here long enough."

"Really?!" He nodded, and I then asked eagerly, "What do you remember?" 

"I had this very deep connection with _someone,_ " he said wistfully. His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration, or maybe because he'd finally looked all the way up and the sun was hitting his eyes. "You remind me of them, actually." 

***

As time passed, Aslan and I grew closer together. He started gradually remembering more and more about the life he'd lived, and it became custom for him to give me out of context memories. Most of them were about this _someone._ That nauseating feeling resurfaced every single time. The sensation had changed from a pit in the stomach to a tug at the heart. Part of me felt frustrated that I, on my end, could not recall a single thing about my life as Eiji Okumura. Nonetheless, I listened to Aslan, because the way he'd talk about his special person was fascinating. He'd tell about how he had this special, calling aura to him, one that soothed anyone in distress like magic, and how 

"He really liked this one dish, and I remember absolutely _loathing_ it," he told me once, while we sat on the ground in a clearing of the woodland. 

"But did you try it before hating it?" I traced a squiggle in the ground and blew the dirt off my finger. 

He huffed. "It sure _looked_ horrible from what I can remember." 

"Not all ugly food inherently tastes bad, _Aslan,_ " I giggle. 

"No way was I gonna eat it! I'm pretty sure it _smelled_ bad too." 

We spent our nights underneath a tree overlooking the dewy crops. Aslan would sometimes look up between the branches, at the dark sky littered with stars (and the occasional passing comet) and tell me that personally, he'd never liked the nighttime. 

"And why is that?" I'd asked on the first night. 

"Something about it is really. . . pitiful?" he replied, never elaborating on his statement. He'd rest his hand on mines absentmindedly, then fall asleep.

In slumber, Aslan looked even more peaceful. He had a tiny, coy smile like he was having a really good dream. I always hated waking him. It felt almost rude to pull him from such utter peace. 

One night, he asked me about something called soulmates. 

"The little girl who came before you said that word," he explained. "According to her, a soulmate is someone with whom you had a connection that was deeper than just friends. Not everyone has one apparently, but people who do, they can never completely forget about their soulmate." 

"So that person I remind you of," I said, "Were they your soulmate? 

"Yeah." He closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. "But I doubt I got the chance to love him as hard as I should have." 

During the daytime, if we weren't admiring the breathtaking scenery of the valley, Aslan was reading. Always the same book, over and over again. He told me it reminded him of his past life, but he couldn't remember why. The book was bound in cloth, covering both the title and author.

We never had to eat or take care of ourselves that often, because no matter what happened, our appearance and all-around wellbeing always stayed the same;

When Aslan had tumbled down a slope at full speed after tripping on a rock, the dirt and blood on his face and the branches in his hair had disappeared almost instantly. What stayed, though was his gleeful, childish grin. He made his way towards me at the base, giggling and rubbing his head, studying the ground with more gusto than before. That was the first time I saw him sincerely laugh. Before that, he'd just chuckle, or give me a simper, or a smile. 

When I scraped my knees on a tree trunk while scouring the forest (out of pure curiosity), the blood and stinging pain faded as fast as it arrived. I hadn't realized that until I was back on the bench, Aslan walking behind me with fervent concern because I'd been limping the entire way back. 

Sometimes we'd walk to the top of the shortest slope in the valley, and initiate a conversation with the man at the front of the gate. He didn't have a name, or maybe he just didn't want to spill, but he had a lot of stories, both heartbreaking and hilarious, about previous residents of the valley he'd come across. 

One story was of this couple in their early 30s, who'd died in different car accidents only minutes from one another. They were soulmates, who hadn't met until their late teens. The two had spent a total of 50 years in the valley, welcoming newcomer after newcomer, but never stepping foot outside the gates. Finally, they were both granted rebirth, with the condition that they'd be inseparable twins, destined to never find love for other people, only relying on familial love to get by. 

In the vast woodlands was this small creek, so shallow it came up to our knees and no further. On some nights, Aslan would drag me into the forest and lead me to the clearing where the body of water was. We'd sit at the edge and dip our bare feet into it. The moonlight drifted between the treetops and made the creek glow so bright I had to avert my eyes every time we'd visit the clearing. 

"Gate Man's stories are always so interesting," I said on one of those special nights. "And he also tells them really well."

He snorted, kicking the water a few times, watching it splash onto my jeans. " _Gate Man_? Is that the name you're giving him?" 

"Well, he never tells us his real name." 

Aslan stared me down incredulously for a while. 

One afternoon, Aslan brought me to the top of a hill taller than the rest, gripping my wrist with terrifying tenacity. It was the first time I'd been anywhere other than the crops, the grassy field and the dispersed forest at the base of the highland; the side of the hills where everything was cloudy and coated in dew, but never seemed disappointing or sad.

The land behind the slopes was a sun-soaked meadow. Scattered across the bright green were spots of yellow, dead grass that the afterlife never tended to. As always, it was deserted. We were the only ones residing in this afterlife. 

"Ash." 

Aslan was staring at the valley below us, still clutching my wrist. His crown of blond hair whipped across his face in the breeze. He'd discarded his trench coat and shoes, and dug his feet deeper into the grass, which was weirdly not dewy at the summit of the hill. 

I turned to ogle at him. "Huh?" 

"It's what my soulmate used to call me. Ash. I just remembered that." 

"Can I call you that?" I asked him, sitting on the grass and dragging him down with me. "It's a lot easier than Aslan." 

He paused, then turned to me with the same coy smile, and I could have sworn there were tears forming in his eyes. "Sure. Go ahead." 

His hand descended and intertwined with mines. I didn't question it. And, just like nearly every day for the past two weeks, we watched quietly as the sun began to set. 

"So, Ash." 

"Hm?" 

"Do you really think I'm a new soul?" 

I felt him freeze. "Usually, new souls aren't able to remember their first life at all," he said. "Can you?" 

I stopped to think, and slowly laid down onto the grass, closing my eyes. "Well, no. Before the guy at the gates told me my name and cause of death, I didn't know anything. And I haven't recalled anything since." 

He cursed under his breath. "Well, I really _hope_ you aren't a new soul. Because then. . ." He hesitated. 

"Then what?" I asked, "Is being a new soul bad?" 

A sigh. "No, it's nothing. New souls are supposed to be innocent, and energetic. It's their first human life, their first afterlife, their first rebirth, so they're curious about everything." Ash pauses, then continues with a slight exhausted drag to his words. "When I first met you, I asked you if you'd been here before. You said no." 

I hummed in affirmation. "What about it?" 

"An old soul would be most likely to remember their past _afterlives_ rather than their years as a human being. I used to remember some things about my past afterlife, but I was more concentrated on remembering what I'd done as Aslan. I forgot it all." 

"Oh. So I _am_ a new soul." 

With a small groan and another sigh, he in turn lowered himself onto the grass, until eventually we lay side by side on the summit of the tallest hill in the valley, hands interlaced and pressed into the soft grass. "If you really are," he whispered, "Then I'm glad I got to spend so much time with you, Eiji." 

I felt a small pang of fear in his words. A cold breeze passed by, and I shivered. "M-me too. Is it because I need a good first experience?" 

There was a hint of sadness in his voice when Ash spoke the next words. "Yeah, let's go with that." 

***

One morning, the space beside me at the tree trunk was empty. Only the slightest imprint of Ash remained in the grass. 

I got up and sprinted, thinking he'd just woken up before me, but Ash wasn't sitting on the bench reading the same old book, nor was he chatting up Gate Man. 

No. He was always in either one of those two places. He was supposed to be here. Why wasn't he here?

I thought maybe I'd missed him. Maybe he'd been standing behind me this whole time in complete silence. But I spun, and I ran back and forth between all the places he should have been in. I checked the creek, the forests' clearing, the hills where we'd spend afternoons doing whatever our minds wanted us to do in death, but the mop of platinum blond hair, the perfectly carved face with jade green eyes, and the graceful body with the creme trench coat and jeans, was nowhere to be found.

During my third frantic search around the valley, my eyes teary and my legs too tired to go full force, I noticed something on the bench and skid to a halt. 

Aslan's cloth-bound book sat upon the seat, looking just as worn out as ever. But poking out of the inside cover was a piece of paper, paper that I'm positive was never there before. So in true new soul fashion, I took it out.

It was a letter, written in delicate cursive. 

_Dear Eiji,_

_I've been awfully vague these past few days to you, haven't I? Lying was really hard, especially concerning what I'd been dishonest about._

_When I first arrived here, I was told that I'd done mostly sin, and the only reason I was here and not in hell was that too many people had believed in the good side of Aslan. I had to rebirth at some point, but there were conditions; it'd only be put into motion shortly after I meet a new soul. Who knew I'd needed to wait 37 years for that to happen?_

_When that little girl came in eager to tell me about soulmates, the topic piqued my interest. At the time, I'd been already getting the occasional memory of my past life. Just small things, like the fact that I had a soulmate, and the fact that most of mine and his life was nothing but misery._

_Then you, Eiji, waltzed into the valley, and the first thing I felt was an inexplicable link._

_The memories started gradually becoming more specific from that point on_ _. I remembered that my soulmate had black eyes and black hair. He had a comforting aura to him, a sixth sense for people in distress, and he never shied away from standing for what was right. He was innocent and open-minded, energetic and clear-headed._

_On the night after the man at the gates retold us the story of the couple in the car crashes, the most important of my memories came back; my soulmate's name was Eiji Okumura. You. The one who'd so obviously been experiencing your first afterlife. _

_Funny, isn't it? Your soulmate comes knocking at your door, and you think it's all gonna be smooth sailing from there. But apparently even in death, Aslan needs to suffer._

_So for the remainder of my time in your company, I tried to convince myself that you weren't a new soul, because I didn't want to fade so soon._

_I hope to find you in life once again._

_\- Aslan_

* * *

"Are you ready, Eiji?" asked the man with the pinstripe attire at the gates.

"I've _been_ ready for five years."

Facing me was a small gate encased in walls of stone, both with ivy and various vines running down the length. The sun in the distance blinded whatever view I could have gotten of the landscape beyond the doors. All that hit my eyes were hills. 

"Very well then. You remember the conditions?"

That made me pause, and let out a hearty chuckle. Of course I remembered. I'd spent so long reviewing them in my head I had them memorized.

"I'll have to spend my new life looking for Aslan's new body," I replied. "And until I do, I mustn't fall in love." 

He smiles. "Good. I knew you'd be this dedicated." 

_Aslan. I hope to find you in life once again._


End file.
